War Paint
by Bialy and Sparrow
Summary: Kira has brought the world to its knees, and the last remaining opposition mounts its final stand. But for some of the players, there is room for uncertainty, and for treachery. Collab AU from the four year gap
1. Tuesday

Disclaimer: Sparrow and Bialy don't own Death Note and are making no money off this.

Bialy's note: Okay...so I pestered Sparrow about not putting this up before I could put an AN on it and now I can think of nothing to say o.o This is a collab story by me, Bialy, and Maelstrom Sparrow, based after the four year gap (though some elements take place within it) in the Death Note timeline. There may still be some issues to work out because it's a...well, it's an ambitious plot considering I personally have never written anything much beyond one shots. We're working on covering up any holes in the plot but...don't shoot us if there are a couple to begin with? Anyway...I'm rambling now. Here's the story.

Sparrow's note: MAHA! There are no plotholes! epic pose (Don't worry Bialy, I've never written much past oneshots either XD) Hope you guys enjoy :D

* * *

**War Paint**

**Chapter One: Tuesday**

_November 5th 2004. The detective known as L is killed by the power of the Death Note._

_January 10th 2005. Mary Kenwood, the second Kenwood daughter, dies in a motorcycle accident in Colorado, USA._

_April 7th, 2005. With his family at his side, Thierry Morello succumbs to liver cancer in a hospital in Paris, France. Mary Kenwood and Thierry Morello, along with their alter egos, Wedy and Aiber, are vanquished to the darkness._

_April 10th 2005. Yotsuba group employees die of heart attacks. Stock plummets._

_May 1st 2005. L requests that all police and media refrain from making suspected criminals' faces public. Soon after, information on criminals begins to flood the internet._

_June 17th, 2007. A number of minor countries, as well as Russia, the United Kingdom and Japan, publicly accept Kira's word as law._

_October 31st 2007. A young man calling himself Near approaches FBI Director Mason with information regarding the Kira case. A meeting with the President of the USA is arranged._

_November 3rd 2007. US President David Hoope agrees to establish a secret organisation to continue the Kira case after meeting with Near, and makes statements on television to this effect._

_November 4th 2007. US President David Hoope is killed by the power of the Death Note._

_December 13th 2007. America accepts Kira. The governments of those countries that have not accepted Kira fall into chaos. The world slips into a regime where Kira is the law and guiding light._

_March 21st 2008. Hitoshi Demegawa stars in the television programme 'Kira's Kingdom'._

_April 2009. Light Yagami, age 23, enters the NPA and is assigned to the Intelligence and Information Bureau._

_May 11th 2009. The ICPO meets and agrees to support Kira. Internal resistance is repressed. Groups opposing Kira are outlawed. Anti-Kira television or radio broadcasts, and publications, are banned. The crime rate falls. People all over the planet kneel to Kira._

-

The world was changing.

True, Matsuda thought, as he bit the end of his pencil and frowned down at the list of names in front of him, the world had _always_ been changing, but it had been changing…differently, lately. He shook his head when he realised that didn't make sense, and was glad he hadn't said it aloud. He looked over the names again, realised that he wasn't making any progress, and decided to ask Aizawa. He turned, apologetic expression already in place -

- but Aizawa wasn't looking at his own papers, or even a computer. He was staring at Light.

Aizawa thought Light was the reason they weren't making any progress. That's what he'd told Matsuda, when he'd asked him yesterday about the staring. Matsuda had been confused - surely their best and brightest mind was _helping_ them? - until Aizawa sighed, leant back against the wall, glanced at the door, and told him he thought Light was Kira.

At the time, Matsuda had argued against it. But when it came down to it…he looked down at the list of names again. Something about them didn't make sense, and when he looked again -

Damn, it was the same list Light had given him a few weeks ago, with the names swapped round! Was he really _that_ stupid?

He glanced back at Aizawa. If Matsuda was perfectly honest - and he usually was, if only out of an inability to remember most of his lies - none of it really made sense to him. But when Aizawa had explained it, haltingly, quietly, eyes fixed on the door in case Light came back, Matsuda has started to remember how Light had been acting lately, with secret smiles and dismissive glances, going about his work with an air of distaste. Matsuda had put most of this down to the fact that they were rapidly becoming an illegal organisation, and thought nothing more of it, but with what Aizawa was saying…

Part of him was screaming that Light couldn't be Kira. Part of him was remembering that on the day David Hoope died, Light had spent a lot of time on the phone and out of the room. And he couldn't bring himself to forget the certainty with which Ryuzaki had expressed his suspicions, or the way it was _only_ Ryuzaki, _only_ the genius who suspected Light that had been killed…after all, the task force's names would be much easier to come by, even after the stringent measures they'd taken to secret them away. If Kira had found them they should _all_ be dead, not just Ryuzaki. It was too tidy, as if someone was trying to make sure it wasn't discovered.

No, none of it really made sense to him. But when even the Chief was casting the odd glance at Light, eyes filled with pain and doubt, Matsuda felt he might be beginning to understand.

It was a Tuesday. Aizawa had been asking Light questions about the Death Note, about Ryuzaki, his arms folded and gaze hostile, and Light's eyes had been narrow and his voice had been cool. Again, the day had passed with no progress being made. Again, Light had been leaving the room and making phone calls.

Matsuda's heart had been pounding in his chest since lunchtime and he was pretty sure if it carried on it was going to burst, long before Kira got to it. Before Light got to it? He tried not to think about that too much, but it was no good. The entire task force was on edge. Aizawa had gone too far, and if they were right, then that would mean -

The door swung open and for a second Matsuda was expecting a vampire or Frankenstein's monster. In the instant before modesty and concern were pulled into place, though, Light's face was more frightening that whatever Matsuda could have imagined.

"Kira's found one of us," he said, heading for a computer. "One of our names."

"What?!" Matusda leapt to his feet, terror coursing through him. He was echoed by Aizawa and Ide, as the Chief moved forward and started urgently asking questions. Light was answering, quickly and curtly, fingers flying over the keyboard and eyes darting. His eyes widened in horror at something and he scrambled backwards, turning a stricken face to his father.

"Dad! It's -"

"_Ah!_"

The Chief's hand flew to his chest as his eyes widened, and Matsuda would have rushed forward if he hadn't been rigid with fear.

"Dad -!"

"CHIEF!"

The Chief's hand dropped to his side. His shoulders slumped. He fell forwards.

All hell broke loose.

Somewhere in the middle of it, the phone rang. Matsuda answered it with mechanical, automatic immediacy, and then a voice in his year was telling him that Sachiko Yagami had collapsed, and that this was where they were told they could reach her husband, and Aizawa was staring at Light again, in disbelief, horror and disgust.

-

Mikami expected nothing but perfection from Tuesday. It took its sweet time getting there, and he only slept – after three hours of tireless stillness – at exactly 12:01 with the satisfaction of knowing that it had finally arrived.

He got up one half-hour earlier than usual, intent on experiencing every moment of _Tuesday._ And if every moment was spent in sick anticipation that was fine. He collected his papers and made his lunch with the usual methods, but his calm morning was sabotaged by anticipatory smiles. He would have to control his joy so as not to give himself away, but the happiness was too massive to be hidden_._

If everything in Mikami's life was the pursuit of justice, his life had been condensed into the impossibly light weight of the notebook in his briefcase. And to think it had only been a week since its arrival! It never left its designated place of honor, and he carried it with reverence and caution. The book followed him everywhere, as inspiration, to remind him what he was fighting for. And _he_ followed _it_ obsessively, too.

Though he realized now that bringing it everywhere was not a brilliant idea. Whenever his fingers brushed it, whenever the brilliantly black binding peeked out from under his documents he'd be overcome by hysterical chuckling, or perverse shivers of delight. Any other thoughts were shoved aside with the papers, and he would dig for the Note and bring the glorious thing into the halogen lights of his office. Pacing like a madman he'd riffle the pages and scan each of the names, the records of thousands…a week, he'd been like this…

_The very manifestation of justice, given to __me__…_

It had taken four short, glorious years for Kira to come to ultimate power. In that time Mikami had seen dark cities purged, networks of evil fall and disintegrate, entire countries bow to the will of justice. Resistance was minimal – the world had accepted Kira as their light.

But Mikami had more than accepted. He had _begged_ this newfound savior for a piece of power, stalking the places where Kira would find him. _I can be his most devoted disciple. I can bring justice upon the scum of this world. I can help him. _It had long ago occurred to him that Kira had to be human, the way he hid his identity, used mortal methods of communication, killed based on location. And yet he, this mysterious human Kira, had acquired a piece of divinity.

And now that piece was in Mikami's hands and it was _Tuesday._

He really didn't get anything else done on Tuesday, besides re-reading the instructions left with the Note again and again. They were quite simple and he had memorized them, so he chanted them under his breath as he took the bullet train home.

As he passed, the TV screens at the terminal were playing last night's recording of Kira's Kingdom. Mikami grinned with the sensation of superiority. _I am selected._

_At exactly 6:27 PM next Tuesday, the following names are to be written in the notebook:_

_Soichiro Yagami_

_Sachiko Yagami_

_No other names may be written in the notebook beforehand._

_Photos included. Death Note contains instructions on how they are to be used._

_Afterwards, the Notebook may be used to enforce justice on the evils of our world._

"To enforce justice on the evils of our world…" he muttered, gripping the briefcase as he took the brief journey home. "_Our_ world…"

He set up his altar – one black pen, one mahogany desk, one black notebook. His eyes glowed a bloody red, watching the clock tick slowly past 6:25

Should he write at 6:26 instead? Forty seconds before the clock changed, exactly, so the Yagamis would die right when the clock changed? It was probably better to wait until the designated time, but Mikami caved at 6:26:15 and scrawled the names, glancing briefly at the pictures and holding his breath.

It was 6:31:22 when he moved next. It probably would have been much longer, because he was still frozen in awe of the passing power, but a shrill ring interrupted him. Mikami dug his phone out of his pocket. He took one minute to compose himself, failed miserably and answered with an exhilarated "yes?"

"_Mikami Teru." _the voice was tinny, distorted. The lawyer held his breath.

"…_You were forty-five seconds early."_

He gripped the phone with both hands suddenly. Shock and awe crawled up his spine. "Kami?" he burst out loudly.

"…_Yes. You have done well, despite the slight matter of your timing. We shall discuss this in the future."_

"Discuss?" Mikami said blankly, suddenly wanting-

"_I would like to meet you, Mikami Teru," _the voice said, expressionless. The lawyer gripped the edge of the desk for support and nodded before remembering Kira couldn't see him.

"Yes," he said plainly, finally gaining control. "Of course, Kami."

"_Further instructions to follow,_" was all that was said, almost hastily, and then the line went dead.

Mikami held the Death Note up to the sunset streaming in from the window, and let out the victorious scream he'd been holding in all day.

-

In the days following the Chief's death, Light spent most of his time out of the headquarters, and even though the suspicion against him was rising, no one could think of a way to stop him.

Matsuda hadn't slept the night after it had happened. He had sat up, clutching the sheets and his gun (as if that could help, against the invisible tendrils of the Death Note's magic), trying to work it all out, trying to resolve himself to the fact that in all probability, Light had killed his own parents.

Seeing Light's face, twisted and torn in grief and horror as he crouched over the body of his father, had made Matsuda wonder how they could even suspect him of being Kira. But as he kept watching him he noticed the expression slip, and while grief was still there, etched into the smooth curves of his face, something like triumph, like glee, was dancing behind his eyes.

Matsuda was sure he'd been the only one to see, and equally sure that Light had only let the façade down for that instant because he was sure Matsuda wouldn't notice. Ordinarily, he wouldn't. Ordinarily, he'd just put the changing, strange expressions down to shock and sadness. But this time…

This time, it was the Chief.

No one should have looked like that over the Chief's death.

After the horror, and terror of being next, had faded to a dull, lingering discomfort, the full impact of what had happened had set in. The Chief was dead. For Matsuda, that was practically synonymous with Kira winning.

…But then, hadn't Kira won already?

The world had pretty much submitted to Kira's will months ago now. There was even talk of inviting him to become the head of the ICPO…sometimes, Matsuda would find himself wondering if such overwhelming support meant that perhaps Kira was right after all.

That had been before the Chief's death, though. Now…now, Matsuda was sure. Kira was evil, and he had to be stopped. And if Light was Kira, then…then…it just meant that Light was wrong, too.

Matsuda sighed. That idea would take some getting used to.

-

The call came in when he was heading home, after a fruitless day during which he had only seen Light once, briefly, heading out as Matsuda headed in. He fished in his pocket for the cell phone and flipped it open. Forgetting to check the caller display, he answered, "hey?"

The caller hung up. Matusda glanced down at his phone in confusion, and checked who it was that had been calling. The name flashed up on the screen, 'Aizawa', and his frown deepened. Why would Aizawa just hang up…?

He was about to call him back when he remembered the cell phone sharing system Light had set up. No, he'd call Aizawa back from his home phone, in case he wanted to talk about something privately. Like, for instance, the fact that Light was probably Kira.

He quickened his pace, slipping his hands into his coat pockets. He didn't have to watch out for being mugged, at least. Kira'd made sure of that.

He reached his apartment a few minutes later, fumbled with the lock for a moment and picked up the phone before he had even shrugged off his coat.

"Aizawa?" he said, when the other man picked up. He had remembered to call him at home, and not on his cell phone - he wasn't sure how the cell phone sharing system worked, but he didn't want to risk it.

"Matsuda!" Aizawa sounded relieved. "I was worried you wouldn't work it out."

"The cell phone sharing system, right?" Matsuda couldn't help but feel a little proud of himself.

"Right. Thinking about that, in light of everything…for all we know, it was put in place to spy on us."

"…Oh."

"Yeah. Anyway, Matsuda, I know you've probably just got in, but I need you to go over to Ide's, now."

"Ide's?"

"Yeah. You know where he lives? I'm heading over there now myself." In the background, he could hear Aizawa shuffling things round, and the jingle of keys.

"I know, it's not far from here. But why -?"

"Explain when we're there. See you." Aizawa hung up.

Matsuda replaced the phone on the hook, and sunk into a chair. He pressed a hand against his forehead, and let out a shaky breath. He didn't know what Aizawa wanted, but he could probably guess what it was about.

This was getting insane. For the past four days he'd barely been able to keep his mind off the fact that at any moment, he could collapse on the street in death throes. He had barely entered his thirties! Jesus, what was he _doing_ here? He shouldn't be involved with this case, he should be apprehending muggers and stopping drunken street fights! And now, he was going to get himself killed, for some worthless goal that they'd never achieved and wasn't worth making himself a martyr for. Look at Ryuzaki, Ukita - look that the Chief! They'd all died for this now…and they were getting nowhere. They'd lost.

Dismally, he headed back out of the door. He'd walked to Ide's a number of times over the past few months, so knew the way almost automatically. He let his feet take him there, while his mind stuttered back and forth between fear and grief.

The door was answered on his second knock. He must have taken longer getting there than he'd thought, because Aizawa was already seated at one end of the couch. Mogi was next to him.

"Matsuda," Ide greeted him, aiming him towards a chair.

He sat down, looking around at the solemn faces. "Guys? What's this about?"

Ide leant against the wall next to the couch. "Three guesses."

"It's about Kira," Aizawa said. "…It's about Light."

"We're pretty sure it's him now." This was Mogi, his face dark. "We think that he had someone - a proxy - kill off his parents to try to reduce the suspicion against him. He'll have worked out we're considering him again by now."

Matsuda swallowed dryly. "Doesn't that mean that he'll -?"

"Yes," Aizawa said heavily. "That's exactly what it means."

Matsuda looked around at the stony faces. He let out a breath, and slumped backwards into his chair.

-

Although Mikami had been preparing to wait for weeks to get another message from Kira, he didn't have to wait long at all. Mere days later his cellphone rang, this time at five in the morning. Assuming it was urgent, he reached over to the beside table and answered with a gamely "yes?"

Imagine his surprise when Kira was on the other end. It was enough to get him out of bed and onto the cold tiled floor, clutching the phone.

"_You are to take the morning off work,_" he instructed, _"And take the first train possible to downtown Kanto…"_

His instructions were clear and in minutes Mikami found himself breaking his set morning rituals. It unsettled him automatically, but Kira was far more important than work or routine. He was so preoccupied with the upcoming meeting that he failed to notice the familiar address until he was halfway there.

Why had Kira asked him to meet at a café? Was he being watched so closely that Kira knew his daily routine? He was going to meet his Kami over _coffee?_

Mikami ordered one cup black and took his seat. It was his usual perch on poor weather days – he could see the street through a window to his left and the door in front of him. Raindrops chased each other on the glass beside him as the marred figures on the other side dashed through the streets. It was early enough for the place to be entirely empty – except for the teenaged barista girl whose mind was _clearly_ elsewhere – and Mikami was left to his thoughts.

_Why now?_ He wondered. _When he called he actually seemed…worried. Preoccupied, at the least. _He took increasingly swift sips of the bitter drink. _It can__'__t be because of the Yagamis, can it?_

Lost in his thoughts, he swallowed a burning mouthful of his drink when a voice interrupted. "Are you saving this seat?" the mystery person asked carelessly, an ambiguous male voice that could have fit in anywhere.

The lawyer looked up over the rims of his glasses and found himself talking to a jacket. That was all he could see of the man, anyways, as his face was darkly shadowed by the grey hood. It took him a minute, but then he noticed something else was missing. This person didn't feel _right._

On a hunch, he blinked painfully and quickly glanced up at the walking hoodie. His shinigami eyes widened imperceptibly as he saw it – the obvious gap where the man's lifespan should have been. And even his name was that of a god. Light Yagami. _Light._

"Yes, of course," he began slowly, "Kami."

He set down the coffee and didn't take his eyes off it, afraid of his own reaction. Disobedient hands already shaking, mouth already twitching into that uncontrollable smile – _is this what such power does to me?_ He wasn't sure if he was containing his speech out of respect, or fear of breaking out into laughter.

"I'm glad you recognize me…" the man hissed, instantly in a darker tone. Mikami ignored the chills and took time to notice, dimly, that the barista had retreated into the kitchen. They were alone.

The man did not hesitate in pulling his hood down as he claimed his chair. Mikami was a little surprised – he had imagined Kira with the same glaring, sharp eyes. He had predicted the handsomely structured face and long fingers.

What he hadn't expected was how _young_ he was. The man sitting before him could have passed for a high-school student. He returned to glaring into the half-empty coffee cup.

"I see now that I can trust you, Teru Mikami." He said simply. "And that you have made a deal for the shinigami eyes. A very willing follower. Even self-sacrificing."

The lawyer nodded humbly, trying to quell the waves of pride. A door clanked irritatingly and he stole a glance towards the sound, just in time to catch the barista bursting through with a double load of hot scones. She ignored them, but Mikami didn't dare speak until she had left again.

When his eyes returned to the manifested Kira, he saw the man was laughing. "You needn't be so jumpy," he managed. "I come here nearly every day. There is nothing suspicious about us simply talking."

"I…I apologize." The lawyer said hurriedly, embarrassed. "I haven't seen you here before and yet this is where _I…_"

"I know," Kira interrupted needlessly. Mikami clutched at his coffee with both hands, keeping it from sloshing. "I've seen you here before, once or twice. But I hide well." He smirked.

Silence drew out between them. They both remained still as the lawyer struggled to form words. Rain pattered on the window and Mikami settled back in the armchair, taking a quick breath or two. "I have…some questions, if Kami would permit me?" he said finally.

"Of course." Kira obliged, propping his cheek up on his hands. If he hadn't been Kami he would have looked the belligerent teenaged son, but the pose was glorified on him as pensive and patient.

"Why must you hide?" The lawyer burst. "I mean no disrespect, you know I have nothing but respect for you-"

"And yet?" His leader asked, unmoving.

"And yet you have never shown yourself to the public. You are ambiguous. It is powerful yet…frustrating. Had you revealed your identity I could have helped you years ago." Mikami looked away angrily and Kira quirked up a slender eyebrow.

There was a long silence. Mikami realized the question had come across as not very intelligent. He was not so deluded as to forget that Kira was opposed, but there was a different reason for asking.

"I suppose I could have. And yet my enemies would have then eliminated me, long ago." The man responded finally, as if teaching a child, eternally patient.

"I understand." Mikami said, imitating his dark, haughty speech with a glance over the rim of his glasses. "And yet, _they_ would be very easy for _me _to eliminate."

The shinigami eyes glowed briefly red.

To his pleasant surprise Kira laughed again. Mikami was not stupid – just _insanely_ devoted. "You are correct." He said. "And that would have been you mission, had they not beaten you to the punch."

"…Kami?"

Kira pulled a wrinkled newspaper clipping from his pocket and passed it to Mikami across the table. _Gas Explosion In Police Headquarters: Kills Four._ His eyes were pleased as he said airily. "They're dead. Took most of the information on my investigation with them."

"You've killed them already?" Mikami guessed, as if it was a normal conversation.

"No. They died without my aid. Matsuda, Aizawa, Ide and Mogi had come extremely close to discovering my true identity when this happened. Or rather…Aizawa and Ide and Mogi had…" he said the last part to himself, chuckling. Mikami didn't get the joke and pressed on.

"Then surely there are no enemies left?"

Kira drew back in his chair and crossed his legs. "There are always those who would seek to eliminate me. I don't even welcome all who claim to be my friends. I seek a new world and I shall hide my identity until it has manifested. We are close, Mikami, but not close enough."

_We._ He was to be included in Kira's New World. Kira's Kingdom. "Then tell me what I must do." He said simply.

It took a full ten minutes to explain. It would take no more than forty seconds to execute.

-

"Mikami!" his boss scolded as the prosecutor walked past his office. He stopped only out of habit, because his boss was a man he respected. Perhaps the top of his list, until Kira came along. Now, the man standing there digging his hands into his pockets and glaring from coke-bottle glasses seemed to be dangerously inferior.

"Yes?" he said.

"You're late." The man said gruffly, not bothering to move from his perch against the doorframe.

"Ah," Mikami said softly, "that's because I'm quitting."

The man blinked repeatedly as his employee walked past him, expressionless, and into his expansive office where he opened a drawer and emptied select contents into his briefcase. As Mikami was pulling his old yearbooks from the expansive shelves on the back wall, his boss finally managed to form a "what?"

Mikami didn't even dignify the man with a shrug. "I have something I need to do." He finished. He selected a few more books from the wall and walked out, leaving his old fallen hero baffled. Then again, what with the world changing so rapidly, it was no surprise that people were changing too. The chief prosecutor cursed the loss of his best lawyer, then went about his unremarkable life.

-

It hadn't taken forty seconds. This job had…required just a little bit more.

Mikami was glad that he'd taken the entire day off. He had spent the last three hours scanning hazy, static-filled surveillance tapes sent to him by Kira, trying to decipher the crooked names above their heads. At a guess he'd say seventy, maybe eighty-five percent success. A stabbing pain had started to grow behind his eyes after so much work and he closed the Death Note with an exasperated sigh.

Though his main mission had been rather successful – wiping out the rebellious ones – something, or rather some_one,_ was bugging him indefinitely. In eight different streams of tape as well as three freeze-frames, he'd caught the same man. Cropped blond hair, consistently black clothing. This person was always clever enough to hide their face and though Mikami had tried from every angle the little bugger was just not getting caught tonight.

Then something else caught his attention. As Mikami was going through his standard nighttime procedures something jogged in his memory. Though he had been looking at dozens of names all day there was no way he'd forget the name _Light Yagami._

But…_Yagami?_

Mikami left the dishes half-washed and flipped the notebook open, just to make sure, and there they were – the names _Soichiro Yagami, Sachiko Yagami._

He closed the book again, stood there for several minutes in deep thought and then returned to his dishes.

Across the city, the sky was painted a livid orange and crackling flames mingled with a woman's scream.

* * *


	2. Wreckage

Disclaimer: Bialy's compulsion for writing disclaimers means that yes, there will be one in every chapter. We still don't own it.

Bialy's note: Argh this took ages and you know why? Because _I cannot juggle responsibilities at all_. And I got distracted by things like Stargate and Mello and they're both just so damn shiny. Oh, and real life etc etc. Sparrow is on top of things. Sparrow is queen. BOW TO THE SPARROW. Also I was fumbling for most of this so GOOD LUCK KIND READERS.

Sparrow's note: Ohwow praise! I am just as not-on-top-of-this as Bialy is, though, having lost all the files on my laptop...coughcough...we're both pretty much out of control...heheh...

Anyways, I hope you love love Bialy's part of this chapter as much as I did. Her awesome shall shock and amaze you! :O We plot twisted you suckahs. Thanks so much, read n' review plz, and sorry for the delays :)

* * *

**War Paint**

**Chapter Two: Wreckage**

The dawn rose over Kanto, pale pink shot through with orange, and in the west side of the city smoke still curled from the remains of a crumbled building, lazily twisting into the sky. Asides from the people whose jobs required them to rise before the sun, the streets were mostly deserted.

All the lights were off in Kanzo Mogi's apartment, as they had been since some time before the explosion a few days before. Security tapes had identified him as one of the people who had still been in the building, despite the late hour, when it had gone up in flames, along with three of his co-workers.

Kanzo Mogi's apartment, however dark it might have been, was not empty.

"We _really_ can't turn a light on?"

"That depends, Matsuda. Do you _want_ to be killed?"

"Aizawa! We're already dead! Uh…as far as the world is concerned."

A third figure entered the room, moving through the shadows. "It's getting light anyway. We'll have to move away from the windows, just in case. It wouldn't do for four dead men to be found in Mogi's apartment."

Matsuda sighed and shifted in his seat. "Guess you're right. I still feel kind of bad though…"

Aizawa shook his head. "Worse things have been done than blowing up an old building."

"I know. Your wife must be feeling awful, though," he said, barely thinking about it. He didn't notice Aizawa stiffen.

The previous evening's newspaper was lying on the table in front of them. It featured a lengthy article about the explosion, and had included an interview with "wife of victim, Eriko Aizawa, 37". Aizawa had been gloomy and taciturn since reading it.

Ide glanced between them. "A-anyway," he said hurriedly. "We have things to discuss, don't we? We can hardly stay here forever. At some point, they're going to want to sell it on. Or at least, check it out."

"Yeah," Matsuda said, leaning forward. "What are we going to do now we're dead?"

Mogi appeared behind Ide. "I'm not entirely convinced we're in the clear," he muttered grimly.

Matsuda started. "Huh? Why wouldn't we be?"

"Light's not likely to be one to leave it up to fate. For all we know, he could write our names in the Death Note anyway.

Matsuda looked anxiously around. "Do you - do you think that's likely?" No one replied. "What are we going to do?!"

"We've done about as much as we can do," Ide said heavily, reaching forwards and picking up the paper.

For a few minutes after Ide's statement, silence and sunlight filtered through the room. At length, Aizawa spoke.

"There's an anti-Kira group operating in America. To answer your question, Matsuda, about what we're going to do. I've heard rumours…it's that group David Hoope was planning on setting up before he was killed. It was abandoned, officially, but I heard that the FBI pushed it into existence anyway."

"So…we're going to try to find them?" Matsuda frowned.

"No. We're going to let them find us."

Matsuda's confusion increased. "But, Aizawa…if that group is able to find out we're alive, won't Ki - Light? And - and what's to stop him writing our names down in the meantime anyway?"

Aizawa let out a breath and shrugged. "I suppose we have to hope he gets distracted."

Ide let out a low chuckle. "We may just have had our prayers answered, in that case." He held out the newspaper.

"'Kira Supporters Raid Mafia Hideout?'" Matsuda read. "'Earlier today a building in Los Angeles was attacked by a large group of Kira supporters. It was later discovered that the building was being used as the headquarters of an elite section of the mafia. Over thirty bodies have been recovered and identified as wanted men…'" He looked up in shock. "A mafia hideout?!"

"Makes sense," Mogi said, taking the paper as Ide offered it up to him. "Well know faces, high profile criminals…it's almost surprising Kira hasn't hit them before."

Aizawa rubbed his forehead. "Yeah, that is strange…makes me wonder if he has some motive for killing them off now."

"A motive? You mean like…the group we're looking for could be involved there?"

Ide raised his eyebrows. "A group trying to stop crime getting involved in the mafia? Matsuda, you're no good without your morning coffee, are you?"

Matsuda opened his mouth to reply, but Aizawa cut across him. "It probably wouldn't be the group we're looking for. But I'm pretty sure that with something this big happening, they'll be paying attention to it."

Matsuda was still confused. "So what are we going to do? Go to Los Angeles?"

"Dead men jetting off to California, nothing suspicious about that," Ide quipped.

"I'm just trying to work out what Aizawa's saying!"

"Stop bickering, you two," Aizawa said wearily. "Look - I don't _know_ what we're going to do. Short term, though, we definitely have to get some disguises and move out of this place. I have a friend in the force who's still anti-Kira and can get us some fake IDs. Until then…"

"…we wait," finished Mogi, shrugging.

_We wait for what?_ Matsuda thought. _For this group to magically find us? For Light to find us? For a real estate agent to wonder what we're doing in a dead guy's apartment?_ He sighed.

Aizawa had been right, what else could they do?

-

"It was a reckless mob of supporters! No way Kira's behind this, a good portion of those men were brutally slaughtered! Lynched, even."

Mikami fought to keep his cool as he leaned against the wall of the ICPO meeting chambers. Whatever Kira had planned, it had certainly not been this. Light had neglected to tell him of the surprise raid of a mafia hideout – with such unplanned chaos Mikami could only deduce that the raid had been a coincidence, because hadn't these people been the ones _he__'__d_ been personally asked to eliminate?

Mikami could only pray it was a mistake, and that Kira hadn't lost faith in him…to the point of drawing a crowd to the hideout.

Now, of course, they'd begin to suspect Kira was behind the mob even if he hadn't used such grotesque, blunt methods. Quite a knot that Mikami had to untangle. He reminded himself that he was here to save face for Kira.

"-And yet the coroner's reports claim more than half died of heart attacks! How can we not suspect a connection to Kira?"

"Kira _is_ already involved." Mikami interrupted.

All heads in the room turned to look at him. No lawyer would back down from such suspicious glares, let alone Kira's appointed attorney, so Mikami made his way to the front of the room, briefcase in hand, and faced down the ICPO.

There had been discussions brewing amongst the higher-ups these past few months, leading up to this very moment. Now that Kira had become justice, the better half of Interpol wanted to appoint him as their head. The minute Light had gotten wind of this rumor, he had pounced on the opportunity and instructed Mikami to go buy a trench coat and hat to mask his identity and represent him in Lyon.

The lawyer stood there now, feeling a rush of pride that only he could have masked.

"Kira planned to judge the members of the mafia, but his supporters took matters into their own hands. A crime they shall atone for…" he muttered, more to himself than the ICPO. "He would-"

"And who are you?" a voice countered. Mikami's eyes sought out the voice and found the French representative, name and date of death suspended above his head. _Not worth killing him for his insolence,_ he decided.

"I am the ICPO representative chosen by Kira. I will be relaying his wishes to you from now on." The lawyer responded calmly.

"Relaying his wishes to us?" New Zealand protested rapidly. The arrival of this stranger had unsettled them – the way he just stood poised at the front, hands folded behind his back, head bowed. He spoke as if reciting from a textbook. A creepy image.

Mikami looked over his glasses at her, but kept his face shadowed. "From now on the ICPO will be taking orders from Kira. If you are to accept him as just-"

"No way!" Snapped the American representative. "You expect us to just bow down to his will? The man's a lunatic!"

Mutterings of agreement were masked by a louder tide of shocked gasps. He sat down with a defiant pout, pounding his fist on the desk to rile them up. The representatives tore their eyes slowly from him and looked down at Kira's avatar with wide, fearing eyes.

The man was shaking, quietly. Officers looked at each other, questioning his sanity but of course he'd be insane to work for Kira…

And then he burst out in loud, raucous laughter. A true Joker chuckle, echoing through the room like some omnipotent ghost and dancing with the madness in his eyes.

"You will not accept Kira as justice?" he spat, pointing upwards at the American who drew swiftly back in his chair. "I thought your country had already bowed to his will?"

"No matter," Mikami snapped, his eyes glowing red. He dug his hand deep into one of the coat pockets, fiddling with the pen and scrap of note paper within. "No matter, Dean Finch, because Kira has protected this world and cleansed it more thoroughly than any police department ever could."

"How d-d-do you…?" the man stuttered, "My name…"

"-And if you will not except his rule, if you _dare_… You too shall be cleansed!" Mikami met the man's eyes passionately, bitter anger gripping him at the fool's insolence. Then his breath came back and tension was released in that flow of power…_36…37…38…39…_

"Do not defy your gods." Mikami said, and the man stood abruptly with a yelp, fingers digging into his chest. He let out a strangled, gurgling protest and then slumped over his desk, scattering papers into the aisles. They fluttered downwards to Mikami like a gentle fall of snow. His eyes burned like fire through them. No one dared move, not even the American assistant, who was eyeing his dead companion with abject terror.

"Does anyone else have something to say?" His voice was calm enough, but his eyes were deadly, black hair sticking close to his face like a dark halo. When there was silence he walked through the torrent of papers and addressed the crowd before him.

"Kira has instructed me to request the full support of the ICPO in his endeavors. This requires that you publicize or make accessible the names and photos of all criminals, apprehended or at large, within your respective countries."

Murmurs of dissent wafted through the crowd.

Mikami's voice overpowered them, gaining volume. "Kira also requests a ten percent cut of all government funds directed towards respective justice departments."

He had expected cries of outrage at this request, but no one moved. _This is going better than planned,_ Mikami thought gleefully, and turned to take his leave.

"Know that only those who follow the laws of Kira dutifully and vigorously will be exempt from his judgement. I expect your full co-operation."

Mikami exited through the wide double doors on his left, joyously aware of the hundreds of eyes watching him obsessively in the silence. _To have such power…_ he gripped the handle of the door and shoved smoothly, walking out into the daylight. _I will make Kira believe he has chosen well…_

He mentally checked off his list of tasks the god had presented to him. _Kira requires a new spokesperson…we cannot take the chance…if what happened with the mafia happens again…_

But his rationalization was overrun by his jubilation. _We are so very, very close to the ideal world…_

The moment the ex-prosecutor left the building, the ICPO erupted into violent, explosive, angry chatter.

-

Time passed, and the day eclipsed itself into night, shadows growing on street corners before being eaten up by the encroaching darkness. When Aizawa was sure, very sure, that the rest of the apartment block was asleep or at least occupied, he pushed open the door, craned his head, and motioned for the rest of the group to follow him.

The door clicked shut, and Mogi, ever careful, turned his key in the lock for the last time.

The streets were mostly deserted. Kira's rise had meant most night-time activities had become much more restricted, much quieter and much less unseemly. A few people were still making their way home, coming from wherever their job or significant other had left them with clothing pulled tight around their necks. The night wasn't particularly cold, but these days…these days, people took whatever protection they could get. Because after all, who knew what an invisible God would decree was evil?

They had split up into two groups. Ide and Aizawa were up ahead, a few streets further on, looking for a bus. Matsuda and Mogi were to take a cab, five minutes from now, if they could hail one. Otherwise, they were to keep walking until they could. They would be dropped off more than eight streets away from Aizawa's house, and Ide and Aizawa would make sure that the stop they chose was far enough away so as not to alert suspicion if brought to anyone's attention. The night pressed against them, and the lights of a car twinkled around the corner. Squinting, Matsuda made out the sign on its roof, and raised his hand.

They had chosen Aizawa's for a number of reasons. One, Aizawa had moved recently and refused to log his address in the NPA database, out of an instinct that was partly paranoia but mostly a father's desire to protect his children. Secondly, it was large, out of the way, and somewhere they could get supplies together and formulate a plan, before having to move. And thirdly, Aizawa missed his family. He hadn't said anything but even Matsuda had been able to guess - the tiredness behind his eyes, and deeper, desperately hidden, the longing.

The cab dropped them off and they trudged in silence for several minutes. The agreed meeting place was a small park just down the road from the house, and they skulked in shadows, out of sight of any passers by, until the silhouettes of two men came into view.

"Mogi? Matsuda?"

"We're here!" Matsuda answered, keeping his voice low. "Are we okay to go?"

One of the figures nodded, and spoke in Aizawa's voice. "Yes. It's just down there -" he pointed a way down the road - "and I'll go in first, explain to Eriko, check it's okay. I'm sure it will be," he added hurriedly.

Matsuda hoped it was. He didn't fancy hanging around outside until they could find a new place to go, however dark it might be.

They followed Aizawa down the street, each and every one of them doing nothing to make themselves look less suspicious by constantly glancing around. All the lights in the windows were, mercifully, off. They reached the house.

Aizawa stepped up to the door, pressing a finger to his lips. He pulled the key out of his pocket (with, Matsuda noticed, far less fumbling than he usually ended up encountering) and slipped it into the hole. He went inside.

For a couple of seconds, everything was dark, and silent. Then a light was flipped on inside, and Aizawa made a choking sound, and Matsuda heard what he thought was the sound of a grown man falling to his knees. Exchanging nervous glances, the three of them rushed inside.

Aizawa was on the floor, crouched forward, eyes glassy and staring, fixed at some point ahead of him. Matsuda followed his gaze, and felt a strangled noise escape his throat.

Eriko had hung herself. The house was done in an old style, with rafters criss-crossing over the ceiling, and it was from one of these that the body was hanging. Aizawa's shoulders had started to shake, and Ide dropped to his knees next to him, draping an arm over his friend's shoulders. Mogi moved forward and picked up an envelope lying on the coffee table. It was blank, and he pried it open.

"A suicide note?" Matsuda was next to him, staring at Mogi's arm, his throat tight. He couldn't look at Eriko. He couldn't look at Aizawa. He could barely look at Ide. Mogi's arm, however - his arm was safe.

"Looks that way," Mogi answered quietly, scanning it and passing it over. It said that she couldn't cope, after the death of her husband, and the knowledge that he had been fighting against the world Kira had been striving to create. Matsuda's eyes reached the bottom of the page, and he stopped.

"Mogi…his kids?"

Mogi looked across at him, features hard. "I'll be right back." He moved out of the room, silently, barely disturbing the atmosphere. Aizawa let out a kind of choked sound, and buried his face in his hands.

Matsuda still didn't know where to look and Mogi's arm was gone, so he followed him out of the room and waited at the foot of the stairs.

"They're safe," Mogi said, reappearing. "Asleep. This…this appears to have been recent." He gestured uselessly towards the room where Eriko's body hung.

"What are we going to do?" Matsuda asked. "Is there anywhere we - we can send them?"

Mogi shook his head. "It's up to Aizawa. But - but we _can__'__t_, Matsuda. People will wonder who found a dead body and thought to send the kids away and not contact the police. They'll think of kidnapping, send people to look for them…"

Matsuda sunk to the floor, bringing his knees up to his chest. "Do -d'you think this - this was -"

Mogi nodded.

"Then - then this is because we -"

Mogi nodded again, and Matsuda closed his eyes. "Jesus," he breathed. He felt himself starting to shake, and wrapped his arms around himself, pressing his forehead into the crook of his elbow. "What now?"

Mogi didn't answer.

Sometime later (and even after he checked the clocks, Matsuda wasn't sure _how_ much later, because he hadn't really checked the time much before getting there), Ide joined Matsuda and Mogi at the bottom of the stairs. He looked drained and pale, and kept running a hand through his hair.

"How - how is he?" Matsuda asked, and regretted it.

Ide sucked in a breath and held up his hands. "I…no idea. No idea at all."

Mogi got to his feet, and headed into the room. Vaguely, Matsuda could hear him saying something to Aizawa, hear Aizawa saying something back, but he couldn't make out the words. Ide put a hand on Matsuda's shoulder. He looked up.

"The kids," Ide said softly. "Are they okay? Yumi and - and -"

Matsuda nodded. "They're good. They're asleep. I don't - Mogi said he didn't think they knew…yet…about her…" he waved his hand towards the room, and suppressed a shudder.

Ide squeezed his shoulder. "Buck up, Matsuda. I know how…I know this isn't something any of us want to deal with. But you need to get it together. For Aizawa's sake."

Biting his bottom lip, Matsuda nodded. "I know. And I will. How's he doing?"

"Already said, I have no idea. He's sitting. He's quiet. Every now and again he blames himself. It's…well, it's pretty obvious Kira."

Matsuda lowered his head. Of course it was. And the only reason it wasn't them - hanging from a rafter, having their hearts explode - was because they were dead already and Light was probably too busy to double check.

When it boiled down to it, they were living on borrowed time.

Matsuda hugged his knees tighter to his chest. A week ago it had been different. A week ago, Light hadn't been Kira, the Chief hadn't been dead, Aizawa had had a wife and they could all go about their daily business without worrying about the fact that they weren't meant to be alive…

He pressed a hand to his eyes. Right now, he just wanted this to be _over_.

-

There was no point in trying to make any plans, not in the few days that followed their arrival at the house. Aizawa, their best mind, was for all intents and purposes catatonic. He barely answered their questions, ate any of the food they offered him even less, and spent most of the time staring at a photograph in his wallet.

Yumi and her little sister had been sent to an aunt. The aunt - Eriko's sister - had listened carefully to what Aizawa had said to her, accepted quietly that her brother-in-law was no longer dead but her sister was, and agreed to take the children and, in three day's time, arrive at the house and find the body.

Because of this, none of them had been able to move it.

Sometimes, Mogi sat by Aizawa in silence. He might eat, or read a book, or simply stare off into space. Occasionally Aizawa would turn to him and say something almost at random, and Mogi would nod, respond, and within moments the silence would return.

Ide would clasp Aizawa's shoulder as he walked past, and bring Aizawa coffee. Aizawa would look at him out of tired, dead eyes and Ide would sigh, and Aizawa would smile very sadly.

Matsuda got in the way. He tried to help, but he was too noisy, and said the wrong thing. Sometimes he tripped over things and Aizawa would jump in his seat and look round, and Matsuda would mumble a string of apologies and hurry away into another room.

Eventually, they all knew that someone would have to pull Aizawa out of it. They'd have to grab him by the shoulders, shake him, and tell him that he needed to pull himself together and _get Kira_, not roll over and die, because how would _that_ avenge Eriko?

None of them really wanted to be the one to do it, though, so the days rolled on, and Matsuda began to feel himself going insane.

He had to get out of the house. The atmosphere…it was definitely going to make him go nuts. Do something nuts. Do something _reckless_, which would be even worse than doing something nuts because it would mean exposing them all. He found an old, hooded jacket in Aizawa's wardrobe, and it was a bit big for him but it covered his face well enough when he zipped it up. He found a pair of dark glasses in a cabinet, and tried them on.

He looked _very_ suspicious, but no one could make out who he was, so that must be okay.

He left a note on the table by the door and slipped outside. He made sure to check through the small window on the door first, to make sure there weren't people waiting for him to make this very mistake. He caught a bus, and walked for a little while, desperately trying to clear his head.

How had he even gotten into all this? He wasn't even meant to have been _assigned_ to the Kira case, but he'd wanted to work with the Chief again and the case seemed so big and important so he'd asked to be transferred…and then the Chief had taken him to the ICPO, and it hadn't seemed like there was a choice about dropping out after that.

Not that he'd want to, he amended quickly. Because Kira - Kira was evil, and…

…and _was_ Kira evil?

Wait - Kira killed the Chief! Killed Eriko! Killed _L_! Of _course_ Kira was evil, and Kira was Light, so that meant…

Matsuda shook his head, and picked up his pace. He wasn't ready to start thinking down that line. Not yet. Not now.

He bought a newspaper in a corner shop, and put some basic groceries on the counter too. He paid in cash, double checking everything he did because the last thing he needed was to do something stupid and get Ide mad, when everything was already so wrong.

Matsuda hadn't really thought to bring that much money out with him, and decided not to waste more anyway, so he walked back. The evening was cool so it gave him an excuse to zip the jumper up all the way, and he tried not to stiffen too noticeably every time someone passed close by him. He chewed on his lip and shifted the carrier bag in his grip, feeling the plastic dig into the flesh of his hand.

"Evening."

Someone was _talking to him_. Matsuda resisted the urge to drop the bag and flee for his life, and just nodded at the speaker. Out of the corner of his eye, he took in his appearance: young, maybe around Matsuda's age, or a little less, with dark, slightly wispy hair. He didn't look local. Matsuda felt his suspicions increase.

"Jumper and shades together?" the man said, in Japanese that was almost flawless, except for the horrible accent. "Bit contradictory, don't you think?"

Matsuda shrugged.

"Don't you talk?"

Matsuda shrugged again.

"You're _really bad_ at this inconspicuous thing, you know."

_Ignore him, keep walking, pretend he's a crazy guy that sat next to you on the bus_…

Matsuda realised that it had started to get dark, and that there was no one around, at about the same time the man put a hand on his shoulder.

He was spun round to face him, and almost dropped the carrier bag.

"Listen. I know who you are." The man kept a firm grip on his shoulder, fixing his eyes on Matsuda's glasses. "Touta Matsuda, member of the Japanese taskforce, supposedly died four days ago in an explosion, right?"

"What - how - who -" Matsuda had lost the ability to form sentences. Fear and panic were curling around his intestines, threatening to make him throw up all over the man in front of him.

"I'm Stephen Gevanni." With his free hand, the man fished in his pocket and pulled something out. He offered it to Matsuda. "I'm a member of an anti-Kira group. Keep this. We'll contact you. If you don't want anything to do with us, just get rid of it. But it's your best chance. Trust me." 'Gevanni' smiled darkly, as if he realised just how hollow the phrase 'trust me' would sound in Matsuda's ears. Pressing the object into Matsuda's hands, he turned away, and disappeared into the gathering gloom.

Matsuda stood stock still, his heart promising to break through his ribs. _What on earth had he done? Discovered - completely - anti-Kira group? Was that true? How did he - how else would he -_

No. No, no, no - it was all wrong to be standing here, in the middle of the street, thinking about this. Matsuda shook himself mentally. _Aizawa_. No, not Aizawa. Ide? Mogi? One of them would be sure to have an answer. They'd sort it out, yell at Matsuda for a bit, and then it would be okay. That was how it _always_ went. Always.

He glanced down at the object in his hand. It was a phone.

He definitely needed to get back to the others.

-

"You did _what_?"

"I - I went out," Matsuda said. Had they really not even noticed he was gone? He'd been - well, he'd been at least an hour, he knew that much. They hadn't even _noticed_?

"I - you - Matsuda!" Ide pressed the palms of his hands against his head. "Do you know how dangerous that is? We're meant to be _dead_! Dead men _don__'__t buy groceries!_"

"You were recognised." This was Mogi, from the doorway, his arms folded.

"Yes. Well - no!" Matsuda protested weakly. "I - I think - I mean it sounded like he _knew_ we were here and was waiting to catch one of us, you know?"

"And _how_ did he know we were here?" Ide was pacing. "Perhaps he knew - did you think of this one, Matsuda - perhaps he knew because _Kira_ is _tracking us_? And now he has proof that we're not dead?"

"Maybe it's genuine!" Matsuda scrambled in the bag, and pulled out the phone. "I mean, he gave me this and -"

Ide took it, looking even paler. "A phone. A phone! Phones can have tracers! Phones can be bugged! And then there's that damn cell-phone sharing system…cell-phone _spying _system Light made us all use…"

Mogi moved away from the doorway. "Calm down, Ide. Matsuda's right - there's still the chance that this is genuine." He looked between the two of them, and took the phone from Ide's hand. "My vote is on waiting. We wait a few hours, then get rid of it, just in case. But let's think about this - if that guy - Gevanni? - if he was working for Light, and knew Matsuda was who he was, he could have just followed him. Why bother raising his suspicions?"

Ide frowned, seeing the sense of the suggestion. Matsuda saw it, too, and was suddenly glad to have someone as clear-headed as Mogi in the group. When Aizawa wasn't around, he'd noticed - already - that both he and Ide had a tendency to get rather over-emotional.

"Okay. So - so we give it a few hours, and -"

The phone started to buzz in Mogi's hand. They looked at each other.

"Get Aizawa," Mogi directed at Ide, pressing a button on the phone.

A tinny, distorted voice emitted from the speakers.

"Good evening. Am I speaking to the surviving members of the Japanese anti-Kira taskforce?"

Mogi and Matsuda exchanged a glance. Should they answer…?

"Your silence is just as telling as an answer. I shall assume I am correct."

Ide reappeared, holding Aizawa by the arm. Aizawa's eyes looked bleary and out of focus, but after a few moments, he seemed to take stock of the situation. Ide was muttering quietly into his ear, presumably bringing him up to speed.

"I am…N. I am the leader of an anti-Kira group. We are called the SPK. We seek your assistance, or at the very least, as I am doubtful of ho much assistance you can provide, your co-operation."

More exchanged glances.

"We're listening," Aizawa said hoarsely from the doorway.

"Good. In around two minutes, a message will be broadcast across all television channels worldwide. If you share in its sentiment, please follow the instructions that will be sent to this phone when the message ends."

The line went dead.

Aizawa was the first one to move. He was over by the television set, flicking it on, turning up the volume. He spun around to face the others, determination blazing in his eyes.

"I believe them," he said, and Matsuda wasn't sure if it was logic or some new, strange kind of desperation talking, "and if this message is worth anything, and maybe even if it isn't, I'm going to go along with them."

"Aizawa - " Ide began.

"No, Ide. I - don't you see? This is _exactly_ what we needed to happen. This is the only way. If this isn't them - if we don't take this chance - then what _are _we going to do?"

Matsuda had to concede, he had a point.

A few moments later, the news broadcast in the background flickered away into a white screen. On it were the letters "SPK".

"_The following is a worldwide critical alert. This is a message from the Special Provision for Kira.__"_

Matsuda looked round. Mogi was standing, still hlding the phone, staring at the TV set. Ide's eyes were wide, and Aizawa…Aizawa was looking like he'd just been pulled back from the edge of a cliff, and told he had a reason to go on living.

He turned back to the TV, and felt something inside him begin to burn. They finally had a plan.

-

The second time Mikami met Kira in person was far more satisfactory than the first. It had been organized properly this time, not hastily. When Mikami returned from Lyon, a message had been left on his answering machine, specifying only an address and a date. Without bothering to remember how tired he was from the trip, he sealed the Death Note inside his briefcase and took the train at the usual cruelly early time.

The building Kira had specified was in the heart of Kanto, a regulation masterpiece of steel and glass that blended in well to the buildings around it. Crowds of people thundered by, going every-which-way in rush hour foot traffic. And yet as Mikami crossed the street, he noticed that none of the crowds seemed directed to Kira's meeting place. He had walked a full block with the building in sight, crossed the street and come right up to the door without witnessing a soul enter or leave.

He concluded that Kira _was_ a genius, in every aspect.

The lobby, too, was deserted, and Mikami crossed the black-tiled floor uncontested. The place looked rich and elaborate, a lot like his old law firm, in fact. Only as he walked past the empty reception desk and into a waiting elevator, hearing but one pair of shoes clatter across the floor, the place had the serene, hallowed effect of a monastery.

Kira was waiting for him on floor eighteen in a throng of technology. The floor consisted of one room only, with a set of glass stairs leading up to a split-level. The only human touch was a table tucked underneath the staircase flanked by green couches, and the rest of the room was crammed with screens, keyboards and hard drives. The entire back wall was taken up by screen playing last night's 6-o-clock news.

For some reason every piece of furniture seemed tilted to stare back at the figure reclining in a swivel chair at the centre.

"Mikami." A familiar voice said flatly, and the figure in the chair turned to face him. He beckoned with two fingers. The lawyer approached obediently, unsure if he was supposed to bow.

All Kira said was "Good, you're here," before returning to the screens before him. All of them, Mikami noticed, were playing the same thing: A recording of the 6 o clock News. A woman with cropped black hair and bright eyes was chattering away to a low volume hum, with subtitles flashing across the screen: _Bringing you the official word of Kira on today__'__s evening news…_

You haven't seen this yet." Kira deduced, and he turned back to the recording. He perched his chin on his hand, the blue glow reflected in his sharp eyes.

"No," Mikami responded. "I was in Lyon."

The woman on the screen continued to speak. She was poised as any news anchor should be, speaking with enthused detachment, but Mikami had watched enough people to recognize the passionate spark in her eyes. _This is Kiyomi Takada, official spokesperson for the original and all-powerful Kira..._

"I selected her myself. She is to be your subordinate." Kira continued to Mikami's growing amazement. "In such a time as I must remain hidden, Kira requires eyes, hands, a voice – Kiyomi will become Kira's public symbol."

Mikami tried to quell the frustration rising in him again. _Must he still remain hidden? _He would never dream of calling his God paranoid, quite the opposite, but how many enemies of Kira were there, _really_?

"Please sit," Kira requested amiably, and Mikami dropped silently into a nearby chair, identical to the other. It felt wrong.

"I understand you have questions? You must have questions." Kira – _Kami_ – angled his face up with a sadistic smirk. "Never mind. You haven't seen this yet. Just watch."

The news report continued on for another six solid minutes. The lawyer shifted back in his chair, rather uncomfortable with sitting in god's presence for such an extended length of time. From what he could gather, Takada was repeating everything he'd been instructed to say at the ICPO. _Does Kira still not trust me?_

And then the screen erupted into noise for a split second. Mikami jumped as the image of Takada was replaced by a plain white screen with three letters emblazoned across it. _SPK._ His Kami bristled visibly, like a cat.

_The following is a worldwide critical alert,_ the TV said, and the manipulated voice was painfully aloof, emotionless. _This is a message from the Special Provision for Kira. We are an elite group dedicated to capturing and eliminating Kira from the world system of justice-_

A chair clattered to the floor, breaking the room's tense silence. Mikami had stood in a passion, anger flaring up within like a warning alarm. "They dare-" he sputtered, at a loss for words.

Kira tensed even further. A muscle twitched beneath his eye, almost imperceptible. "It gets worse."

"It couldn't possibly-"

_-We would meanwhile encourage that all public officials mask their identities. Names of criminals, as well as photos and video evidence, should be made confidential._

"Did they have a mole in Lyon?" Mikami stuttered angrily. "They know exactly what Kira needs! They were prepared."

"That's highly likely. Keep listening," Kira said, and Mikami fell silent.

_-to Kira and his supporters, know that there are those who would oppose you. The SPK, for all you know, could be a massive organization, a far-reaching web that not even your powers could destroy. We shall find you, however long it takes. And know that we have this in common among all of our members: None shall rest until you have been brought to justice._

The screen returned to noise. Mikami tried to breathe calmly, but the frustration boiling within him was threatening a scream. Kira didn't have time for such things. Why were humans so stubborn, so _evil?_ Couldn't they just accept that Kira was their law now? Rebelling would only get them killed.

"They're clever," Light admitted to his stony-faced subordinate, "no specified leader, no faces or names. They know how we operate."

"What do you need me to do?" Mikami asked simply, gritting his teeth.

Kira grinned again. "Exactly what I wanted to hear."


End file.
